


Like Sunshine

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik likes watching Charles swim. Charles wants Erik to join him.<br/>Just a fluffy little fic I wrote for Ninemoons48. I'm rather pleased with how it came out, so I thought I'd share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninemoons42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/gifts).



> As this was just a spur of the moment thing, it's unbeta'd. Any mistakes are purely my own doing.

            Erik is seated on a white plastic chaise longue, reading by the side of the pool. Well, in theory he’s reading. What he’s actually doing is watching his best friend swim. Charles has the same grace on land that he has in the water, but there’s something about seeing him swim that emphasizes it. Perhaps it’s the way his compact frame moves under the dappled light that shines through the water. Maybe it’s that he dives like a dolphin and bobs back up grinning ear-to-ear, playful as an otter pup. Or maybe Erik just likes seeing him wet and wearing nothing but his form-fitting swim trunks.

            Every now and then, Erik remembers to turn the page. If he’s lucky, perhaps his sunglasses will make it less obvious that he’s barely read a word in the ten minutes Charles has been in the water. After watching for a few minutes more, Erik really is about to tear his eyes away from his friend in order to get some reading done, but that’s when Charles starts trying to persuade Erik to join him in the pool.

            “Erik, come on! It’ll be fun!”

            Charles is treading water in the middle of the pool, all bright eyes and copper freckles and sunburnt nose. His wet hair hugs his scalp and clings to his temples. A rebellious waterlogged curl keeps making its way over his eye. He looks completely ridiculous, and Erik tells him so, hoping the brat’s vanity will distract him from his attempts to lure Erik in.

            “You look like a wet dog, Charles,” he says.

            “And you look like a grumpy old man. Come on! The water’s nice and cool. Aren’t you roasting out there?”

            “No. I’m fine.”

            “Are not, liar!”

            “‘Are not,’” Erik mimics. “What are you, five? Anyway, I told you, I’m fine where I am.”

            “Are not!” Charles repeats.

            “Am so,” Erik says, voice and expression a perfect deadpan.

            Charles’ laugh is somewhere between a giggle and a snort. He swims to the edge of the pool and he gazes up at Erik with widened, pleading eyes. His eyes look nice against the pink of his face and the near-black of his wet hair, all surrounded by the blue-green of the water. Erik just stares at him and hopes that he’ll give up.

            “Eriiiik,” Charles whines.

            “What?”

            “It’s no fun to swim by myself.”

            Erik crosses his arms. “Then get out of the water.”

            As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets it. Charles has never been one to back down from a challenge. Now he’s going to be insufferable. Already, his efforts to coax Erik into the water have been resumed.

            “Swimming is fun! Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

            Erik shakes his head.

            “Just give it a chance, and if you don’t like it, you can get right back out.”

            Another shake, just as insistent, but Charles doesn’t seem the least bit deterred.

            “At least dip your feet in, won’t you?”

            Charles is bound to pester and prod until given what he wants, and clearly there’s no escaping it.

            “Fine.” Erik sets his book down, moves to perch on the edge of the pool and dangles his feet in the water. Charles was right about one thing, it _is_ a very hot day and the water feels wonderful around his legs.

            “That’s nice, isn’t it? I told you it would be.”

            “You’re awful when you’re smug.”

            “Give me your hand,” Charles orders. He uses that completely confident voice that he has sometimes, the one that sounds much older than his twelve years, and Erik obeys without thinking.

            And then, with one sharp tug, he’s falling. He’s falling. He’s sinking, and there’s water burning in his eyes and in his nose. He flails violently, and he has just enough time to gasp in a lungful of air before he goes under again. His mouth opens and it’s filling that as well, filling his lungs, and every sense is screaming because this is an emergency and, oh god, he might actually die here.

            Suddenly the panic’s gone, and everything slows. He’s read about near-death experiences. He knows that the brain scrambling to recall any knowledge that might be of use (and coming up with nothing) causes the phenomenon of a person’s life flashing before their eyes. His life isn’t flashing before him, though, so perhaps his brain has found something of use? It doesn’t seem like it. He’s still sinking.

            But then he’s not, because sturdy arms wrap around him, and he’s rising. His head breaches the surface. He coughs and splutters as Charles drags him out of the pool and on to the concrete. The calm of the moment before is gone now, and adrenaline rushes through his body, making it tingle as he gasps.

            Charles pulls Erik into his arms, holding him up in something like a sitting position so that he can breathe. It’s lovely, and Erik feels safe and warm… And Charles is screaming at him.

            “You absolute fucker! Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim? You could have drowned!”

            “You were— the one— who pushed me in,” Erik chokes out.

            Charles’ eyes are wild and his nostrils are flared. He’s either livid or terrified. Maybe both.

            “Jesus! If I’d known, I would never have—God’s sake, Erik!”

            “The great Charles Xavier, at a loss for words,” Erik rasps. “I’m flattered.”

            “This isn’t funny, Erik!”

            Erik leans back into his chest, and thinks almost drowning might have been worth it just for this moment. “It’s a little funny,” he says.

            Charles opens his mouth to say something else, stops, closes it, and just lets out a frustrated huff of air. And then Charles kisses him.

            They stay there for a while: not saying anything, just basking in the sun and each other’s company.

            “Sorry,” Charles says eventually.

            “For pushing me into the pool, or for the kiss?”

            “For the pool. I know you wanted the kiss.”

            “Arrogant git.”

            "Yes, but I’m yours.”

            Erik nuzzles against Charles. Charles, who is warm and steady, and who is always there to save him. Charles, who looks like sunshine made flesh. His Charles.

            “Mine,” he says, and both of them smile.


End file.
